


Of Proposals

by Golden_Ticket



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Stars on Ice, based on real life shenanigans, lip reading challenge accepted, shameless shameless fluff, the hamilton proposal tm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2019-05-03 18:04:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14574579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Golden_Ticket/pseuds/Golden_Ticket
Summary: He’s already kind of burnt through all his good ideas, so now there’s silence and he’s scrambling. And then someone yells “Get married!”He doesn’t think when he brings the mic to his mouth, he just does it and repeats: “Get married?” All scandalized as if the thought was so outlandish.***One-Shot about recent developments.





	Of Proposals

**Author's Note:**

> Most of this actually happened which is really not something I thought, I'd ever say about RPF.  
> I hope you enjoy it!! It's only semi-edited because it's late, so I hope you will forget any errors.
> 
> Thank you so much!!

The truth is, Scott has no idea why he even addresses it. But he’s spitballing, taking cues from the audience to buy them some time while the camera crew sets up for re-shoots. And he’s already kind of burnt through all his good ideas, so now there’s silence and he’s scrambling. And then someone yells “Get married!”

He doesn’t think when he brings the mic to his mouth, he just does it and repeats: “Get married?” All scandalized as if the thought was so outlandish.

 

He realises a moment later that he has just acknowledged _that_ whole thing and that now he has absolutely nothing to say about it. So he skates in a circle, barely meets Tessa’s eye, kicks the ice and shakes his head. He’s such an idiot. _Wow._

 

He’s well aware that he got himself into this situation, well aware that he looks like a fish out of water looking for the right way forward. Because he can’t be _honest_ right now but has to diffuse the situation anyway, with a joke preferably. Still, any joke he could make would be at the expense of their relationship and everything inside him protests that course of action. It’s one thing to lie about it in interviews (he has to, _they_ have to, it keeps this thing between them safer, locked and guarded among people they trust) but it’s another thing entirely to lie to a sold-out ice stadium with potentially half as many cell phone cameras recording the moment for prosperity. (Yes, there’d also been Ellen, which was broadcasted to literally millions but that’d been different, there’d been maybe three hundred people in that studio and only a handful of those actually knew who Tessa and him were, now there’s well over ten thousand people staring at him, all of them aware of her and him and their story and that big open question hanging over their heads that doesn’t get answered, no matter how many times they do, or _don’t_ , for that matter.)

 

Scott is at a loss and he feels the seconds of silence tick by, getting louder and louder. He has to do something, say something and he thinks he might have an idea, raises the mic to his lips again and mumbles and hopes it comes out right.

“Well…,” he starts – that’s when he sees Tessa bend down from the corner of his eye and realises...she’s saving him.

 

“I suppose this is the moment to do this,” she says and he hears it over the roar of the crowd because she’s yelling as she almost, _almost_ gets down on one knee before him and the audience goes _ballistic._

 

Scott himself erupts into roaring laughter, so relieved and grateful and his affection for her hits him like a sledgehammer the way it does sometimes (mostly for no reason, sometimes for wonderful, crazy, devoted shit like this she does just for him). He grabs her hand, squeezes as she’s turning away from him, skating in a semi-circle and catches his eye again, laughing.

 

“Now’s the time?” He half-states, half-asks her and laughs.

 

The people are screaming so loudly, the microphone doesn’t even pick it up. She grins back at him and he can’t believe that after twenty-one years, she still surprises him like every other day. He gives her the faintest wink and then turns to the crowd, knowing exactly what he wants to say now.

“Oh my God,” the words come naturally, they’re the absolute truth. “I think this has happened in my dreams before.”

There’s even more screaming then and he can hear Tessa laugh behind him. He watches her skate another circle as he asks the crowd if there is _anything_ else they want to talk about and then sees Tessa point ahead to a kid standing on the side of the ice. He understands right away. That kid is their perfect out and he takes it gladly.

 

Their next salvation comes in the form of Elvis and they actually make it off the ice with their integrity and privacy intact. Grateful and relieved, he takes Tessa by the hand first and the waist next before they disappear into the tunnel from the prying eyes of the crowd. They’re not talking until they’re in one of the backstage rooms (a changing room full of lockers), now deserted. As soon as he closes the door behind them, she starts giggling.

“You should’ve seen your face,” she laughs and he shakes his head at himself, pinching the bridge of his nose for a second.

“I don’t know why I didn’t just ignore it,” he says. “I’m sorry. And thank you for saving my ass.”

He holds his arms out for her as an invitation to snuggle into them and she does, wedging her head between his neck and shoulder as they lock each other into a comfortable embrace.

 

They don’t have long, need to get back out there and be ready for the next thing the crew might want to re-shoot but they _also_ need this moment right now. Because even if their stunt out there came out pretty funny in the end, it had also been a little bit scary and a _lot_ awkward and up in the air for a while there. They should process it and fast and preferably together.

Using their go-to grounding technique, Scott runs his hand over her back, pulling her in closer and puts his lips just below her ear to say: “We almost had our proposal there.”

 

“So close,” she giggles into his neck and he shivers, pressing a kiss to the skin he can reach in return.

“Do you want a real one?” He asks her and feels her draw in a breath, tense and then relax against him. He can tell she wonders if it’ll happen now, if he’s go for it this time. Which is not to say that they’re not engaged already, it’s just because there was never really an actual proposal that led to it.

 

“I don’t think I want it in _here_ ,” she says, a little grossed out. “It smells like gym socks.”

“I only smell you,” he tells her, burying his nose in her neck and she gasps, just a little (he loves that he has this effect on her, he could try and make her short of breath all day long).

“Well, _I_ smell gym socks and I don’t want you to propose to me in here.” Tessa is putting her foot down and he easily accepts. He has other plans anyway. The thing is just that he has no _set_ plan, merely that at a certain point, he does want to ask her for real, because the way it happened the first time was not the regular, traditional way engagements happen and he thinks she should really get one of those.

 

When their version of it happened, it had been just them in bed one morning, both exhausted from a long week of training and topping that off with some unwinding bedroom-time visiting their home town for the weekend. They were talking nonsense and chuckling about some domestic dispute from the other night (something about coasters) and somehow he ended up saying: “Once we’re married, I won’t have that kind of talk in my house anymore!”

“Excuse me, in _your_ house?” She challenged because they’d been wrapped in _her_ white sheets in _her_ immaculate bedroom (but then again, he had only moved in a week ago, so she would be forgiven for not including him in her thoughts of ownership yet). But then Tessa went still beside him and he turned his face to her to see why, because he had apparently missed something.

 

“What?” He had asked her, still laughing because her face was hilarious.

“You said once we’re married,” she told him, eyes big and he’s a little surprised because he honestly hadn’t noticed. But either way, he just shrugged.

“I mean, we’re gonna be, right?” He asked her, nudging his head against hers easily. “It’s really just a question of when, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” she says. “I guess.” He kisses her forehead and grins against her skin when she talks again. “Did we just get engaged?”

“Yup,” Scott nodded. “Yeah, I think that’s what happened.”

And then they both laughed and laughed and even if they were tired enough to sleep for days, they didn’t. They celebrated getting married before the fact. And it had been glorious. Much like the months following it.

 

Still, it remains that there has never been an outright, by-the-book proposal between them and Tessa still has no ring to show for it (not that she would openly). Sometimes she joked about how _this_ would be the perfect moment to pop the question (standing underneath cherry blossoms in Osaka), or _that_ would be (when he lets her down from a lift at a late night skate in Ilderton on their childhood ice) and he does too sometimes, so it had become sort of a little running inside joke that would always crack them up. ( _Almost_ always, because when Scott had geared up to lean into her on the PyeongChang plushie ceremony podium, she had pulled back and given him a warning glance. Afterwards, he had to tell her to “Relax, babe” and reassure her that he had neither planned on proposing to her then or even kissing her.)

 

He plans, however, to ask her for real one of these days but with everything going on, he hadn’t had the proper time to sit down and really come up with anything spectacular to wrap it in. He’s on it though and if tonight is any indication, Tessa is more than ready to say yes to him too, officially this time.

 

“Tessa, will you-,” he starts where they stand, latched onto each other, gym socks smell and all, just to annoy her and like he knew she would, she cuts him off.

“Don’t you dare, Moir!” She warns him and suddenly her teeth are grazing his neck, just for a second but long enough for his jockstrap to get a little more work containing him than usual (at least when he’s off-ice. On-ice, with Tessa grinding on him time and time again –because of the CHOREOGRAPHY– he’s very, very glad to have it to save him some stellar embarrassment about three times during the average show, more when they’re getting a little frisky).

“Ma-,” he continues for shits and giggles.

“I’ll say no,” she hisses and he laughs out loud until she bites him.

 

That’s when he stops laughing. Instead he growls, low and guttural and he thinks they both might get whiplash from how fast he’s grabbed her head to put his mouth on hers to kiss her hotly and hungry. (He’s been wanting to do that all day, Good Lord.) For a while it’s just their lips smacking together that he hears, mixed with the rush of blood past his ears as it heads on down south and the little sighs Tessa makes, there in the back of her throat. That is at least until there’s that insistent banging on the door which takes him out of the moment harshly.

“Guys, get outta there,” a male voice says and Scott can hear the eye roll in it.

“Get lost, Chan!” He yells back at the door while Tessa giggles, her forehead falling onto his shoulder.

 

“You got five seconds until I open this door, you better be presentable!” Chiddy alerts him and the two of them step a apart...but not by much (they’re not hiding anything from the cast). Scott sighs and eventually lets his friend drag them out of their privacy, only ruffling his feathers a little bit in the process.

 

***

 

One evening later and another show later, Tessa babies Scott for a while as he drives them home in her car after the London event, because he’d stumbled and she could see that it had hurt (and has already started bruising purple-blue – she’s checked). But he’s being so grumbly-dramatic about it that after a while she can’t help but laugh at him a little bit.

“It’s not funny,” he laments, making a left into their street. “I think I pulled something.”

“ _I’ll_ pull something later,” she retorts and he makes a face at her but then can’t help how the corners of his mouth twitch up into a smile and then they laugh, so it’s all good.

 

He parks the car at their house ( _their_ house!) and kisses her in the driveway before he heads out on foot to meet his family for dinner and she watches him leave, enjoying the view for a moment. After double-checking if the car is _really_ locked, she lets herself into her hallway, puts all her outdoor clothes into its proper place and takes a long, hot shower. She takes her time changing into another outfit, checks her social media and reads a couple more chapters of her book on her couch until, a while later, her phone pings with a message from him.

“Coast is clear, just the family and some regulars left. Get your butt down here, babe” flashes on her screen and Tessa puts her book down.

 

She heads out into the night in one of his nondescript basecaps and her equally as nondescript navy windbreaker and walks the ten minutes to Molly Blooms. It’s gotten a bit chilly out but it’s not bad, plus it means she barely passes anybody on the street and like Scott had told her, the pub is virtually empty by the time she gets there. She stalks past the few people left at the bar and walks to the very last table where the Moirs left are being loud and cheery. Nobody makes a big to do about her getting there and scooches over to let her sit next to Scott, scooped up and slightly away from view in the corner.

“Hi,” he says once she’s stripped out of her jacket and squeezes her hand under the table. “Anybody see you?”

“I don’t think so,” she tells him.

“Nice,” he acknowledges, then turns to the table and says: “She’s a little ninja, this one. When she wants to be.”

 

They don’t stay for too long after, but she’s glad to have come out anyway, she hasn’t seen this part of his extended family in a while and she was glad to. Plus, after they’ve said goodbye to everybody as the pub closes for the night, there’s nobody left on the street anymore, which means nobody sees how Scott and her walk home hand in hand. It’s nice.

 

By the time they arrive, she is completely ready to turn in (and by 'turn in' she means go crazy on him for a fast one and then drop dead asleep) but Scott, apparently has other plans. She has barely stepped out of her coat (and hung Scott’s which he’d just thrown carelessly over the wrong hook by the door), when he is calling for her from the kitchen.

“Let’s get a nightcap,” he says when she rounds the corner.

“Scott, it’s crazy late and we both have an early morning,” she says, doing the math in her head; the time she can dutifully allow their fooling around to last getting shorter by every minute of his antics.

“Oh, there’s always time for a hot chocolate,” he says, arching his eyebrows up, which in combination with the promise of hot chocolate has her move further into the kitchen because she’s made weak by both.

“Sco-oott,” she still nags. “I wanna go to bed.”

 

“Just get me that mug from the shelf,” he tells her, pointing to the opposite side of the room and she gives him an unbelieving look.

“Get it yourself, you’re taller than me,” she argues.

“Tessa, just get me that mug,” he repeats, stern-faced.

“I’m not your maid,” she tells him, trying not to laugh because he’s being so weird but his face is also so very hilarious to her right now for some reason.

“Gimme that mug,” he says and repeats again, for emphasis. “Gimme that mug, T.”

“Fine,” she exclaims, shaking her head. She can never really deny him anything, for better or worse.

 

He watches her as she walks by him and crosses the room to go up to her tiptoes, struggling to reach the top with the big mugs and she guesses he’s just making her do this so he can leer at her from behind (so she puts her back into it a little bit, even if he did nothing to deserve it). When her fingers finally close around the handle, she lowers herself to her full feet and the cup on the counter and it’s a damn good thing she did, because a second later, she would have dropped it for sure.

 

When she turns around to him, her mouth already open to tell him he’s an idiot, she stops short and her hands fly up to cover her lips. There he kneels, just like the movies, down on one knee with a ring box open in his hand, and he locks his gaze on hers. How she manages to breathe in this moment will forever remain a mystery to her.

 

“I love you,” he says and she’s already crying onto her clasped hands over her face. “And I thank my lucky stars every day that you love me back and that we finally figured out this whole huge, insane thing between us. These past-” he pauses for a second because his voice breaks over his emotions but gathers his wits (even if his voice doesn’t recover) and goes on anyway. “These past two years have been the pinnacle of my life, of my career, of _everything_ and it’s all because of you. It all...revolves around you. You’re my purpose, Tess. You’re _it._ And if you would do me the honour...of making me the luckiest guy in the world for real and forever... will you marry me?”

 

Tessa thinks _she_ might be the one to pull something from how fast she drops her hands and says: “Yes! Yes, oh my God!” and scrambles to her knees to join him on the floor. They’re both crying but they’re also both beaming, grinning at each other from ear to ear and she lets her tears fall freely as he puts the ring on her finger (it’s beautiful and subtle and even if they both know she won’t wear it outside for a while, she makes sure to tell him that she absolutely loves it).

 

He tosses the box once that’s done and kisses her senseless, right there on their kitchen floor and when they come back up for air, she’s delirious.

“You didn’t just do this because of yesterday, right?” She asks him, stroking his face, hoping fully to just drown in his eyes, climb into his body and never ever leave.

“Nah,” he drawles and looks positively drunk on her. “I’ve had that ring forever, just waiting for the right time. And then someone in the crowd had that “Put a ring on it” poster today, so I took that as my cue.” He pecks her on the cheek real quick before he goes on to joke. “Although it did hurt my pride that you almost beat me to it yesterday. But you didn’t go through with it, so technically, I still asked you first.”

 

“You asked me to marry you when I was nine, Scott,” she tells him, laughing, and he looks at her quizzically for a moment, trying to recollect that specific memory from their childhood and he looks like he can’t quite locate it but then shrugs.

“Sounds about right,” he concedes and accepts it and she giggles. “Guess you’ve owed me that answer for a while.”

“Well, I actually did say yes,” she admits and he laughs.

“Wo-uhh, that’s a long engagement then,” he quips and she loves him so much, she can barely contain it.

“Twenty-one years,” she nods. “Let’s not wait that much longer.”

“No,” he promises her and gives her another kiss on her cheek, holding face in his hands. “We’ll be married for the next twenty-one. And then forever.”

“And then forever,” she echoes and she knows that there are no promises for anyone.

But for them, with all that they’ve been through and overcome and conquered together, she thinks it might as well last a lifetime.

**Author's Note:**

> I mean honestly, can you believe them? 
> 
> PS: Tessa going to the pub after has not been confirmed but I decided to roll with it for the sake of this story.  
> What they said to each other on the ice on that moment (TM) is for them to know and for us to try and figure out by lip reading and I have landed firmly on the version described here, which is as follows:
> 
> T: I suppose this is the moment to do this...  
> S: Now's the time ./?
> 
> But I guess, we'll never know for sure.
> 
> Anyway, they are terrible and I hate them and I really hope they do get married.
> 
> Thank you for reading and if you have any feedback, it's highly appreciated! Thank you so much <3


End file.
